


don't make the same mistake twice

by V_e_s_a_n_u_s



Series: Whumptober 2018 [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abuse, Beating, Bruises, Campfires, Dalish Elves, Dalish Origin, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Magic, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_e_s_a_n_u_s/pseuds/V_e_s_a_n_u_s
Summary: Day number 10 of #whumptober! Prompt today was bruises!A few days after Ostagar, Alistair discovers that the new Warden, Theron, is covered in bruises. Apparently they're not from Ostagar. Where could the Dalish elf have got them?





	don't make the same mistake twice

The fire flickered softly in the dark night, and Theron tended to it gently, adding sticks when it dimmed. He liked the fire. It reminded him of soft words spoken by Hahren Paivel as the whole clan gathered round its warmth and listened to his stories. It reminded him of his first kiss in front of a warm blaze, cold lips on his and his own fumbling hands. It reminded him of home. 

This was the first time the three of them had set up camp together, or four, including their tagalong friend the Mabari who was, as yet, unnamed. They were still getting used to it. Theron was getting used to the lack of that warm family connection he had with his clan. Alistair was getting used to the quiet when not surrounded by massive groups of Wardens. Morrigan was getting used to the company, unused to accompanying strangers for this long. 

Alistair was setting up a tent not far from the elf, struggling with the sticks and the thick, heavy cloth by himself. When they picked up the supplies to make camp, they’d bought enough to make small tents for them each, but Morrigan had refused. Theron hadn’t understood until now. She was standing a small ways away from camp, enough for her to still be classed as with them, but far enough to show that she didn’t want to be bothered. Her hands were in the raised and glowing, and she was weaving sticks together midair, lowering finished structures on the ground in front of her. Soon, she had an almost normal bed, made of twigs and leaves though it was. It didn’t stop Theron from gaping across the fire, thank the Creators no one was looking. 

He took the opportunity to change out of his light leather armour, setting his bow aside, to change into something more suitable for bed. Theron lifted his breastplate over his head, tossing it to the ground beside him to deal with later, and followed with his underarmour just as quickly. 

“Ouch,” the elf heard a voice from behind him, and he turned around to look at Alistair, who was not (as he expected) on the floor covered in twigs and hurt, but was standing next to an upright tent looking directly at Theron. It made him uneasy, “Were they all from the fight?”

Theron glanced down self-consciously, examining his own body. There were more bruises than usual, purple all down one side. Alistair could see on his back the regular green bruises lashed across his back, and dotted along his arms. There was something peculiar about them, something he could recognise, but not quite put his finger on. 

Theron shrugged it off, playing it cool, “Well, it’s only been a couple of days, and I  _ was _ thrown against a wall, if you recall.”

Alistair laughed, sitting down by the fire, hands extended to warm by the flames, “I suppose so. Aw, and look at me, it’s like I wasn’t even there!” He whined, examining his own arms. 

“Mother said,” approaching slowly, golden eyes wary and calculating, “That some of your injuries were older. They were not, in fact, caused by your injuries at Ostagar.” 

Theron glanced down and shrugged on a shirt awkwardly, forcing an almost-convincing smile, “What else could they have been from? Perhaps when I hit the floor after the Joining?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing his story. Alistair had picked up on the tone and was watching him uncomfortably too. 

Bruises meant a story. And if someone lies about it, it’s never a good story.

Theron felt their eyes on him, eyes downcast, “It’s nothing. Forget about it.”

“Theron, I-”

“Look, Alistair. You’re a nice guy. Really, you are: I like you a lot. And I don’t want your opinion of me to change based on something like this. It’s just not worth it,” the elf said sternly, making clear and open eye contact that he really didn’t want to talk about it. 

“And what of me, hmm? Are you not worried about what opinions  _ I  _ may form?” The witch asked, eyebrow raised and yellow eyes challenging. 

“I…” Theron sighed, “I suspect you already figured it out.”

“The bruises on your back: you were beaten, I take it?” she said matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t even register the visible flinch as those words left her mouth, or the way his jaw clenched. 

“I-” the elf’s words were clipped, pained, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we already are,” the woman replied, hand coming to rest on her hip. 

Alistair spoke up, tone uncertain and wary, “Morrigan-” but his caution went unheeded. 

“If you do not come out with it now, it will only come up later. And again and again until you let us know. Better to be out with it now, and be done with it,” her words were clear and crisp, “‘Tis better this way.”

Theron was shaking his head, “No, I-” he paused, his head in his hands. She had a point. Wouldn’t it be better now to only have to say it once and never bring it up again? If he never had to mention it, maybe he could move past it. “I… alright.”

The elf stepped a bit away from the fire, pacing slowly, eyebrows furrowed. The two humans watched him. Morrigan knew this was the right way to deal with it: there was no point dancing around the subject. Alistair was not so certain. He had his own secrets he’d rather just forget and move past. 

“The day before Duncan recruited me,” Theron began softly, a frown etched onto his face, “Some humans came close to our camp, in about the morning. I went out to defend the clan, as was my duty. Something went wrong, I… I don’t know. I don’t remember. There were more of them than I thought. Maybe it was a whole operation, slavers, maybe, I don’t know. But suddenly I was surrounded and they… they took me,” he paused for a moment in both his pacing and his speech, sucking in a calm, steadying breath. 

The other two remained silent, watching. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and Theron’s calming breaths.

“They dragged me to their camp, bound and forced to run behind the horses, I-” he shook his head, “I don’t know how far it was. Miles, probably. But the next thing I know I’m… I’m in a cage with a hundred other elves, and there were these humans everywhere, always sneering, spitting on us, and I-I…” Theron rubbed his forehead, “They told me to follow their orders. I wasn’t going to do that. I put up a fight, managed to gouge a man’s eye out with the cuff of my chains. They dragged me out after that, on display in front of all the cages, so all of the others could see. Make an  _ example _ of me, they said.”

The elf stopped his pacing again. He didn’t want to think of it. He didn’t want to think of how much it hurt. How humiliating it was. But neither of the other two said anything, and the silence drew out. Theron shook his head. 

“They stripped me down. Beat me for hours, until the sun went down. Took turns, the bastards. Made a game of it. Made a game out of  _ me.  _ It was just as they started to get bored of me, just as I was about to be thrown away, like-like some broken  _ toy,  _ that was when my clan found me. They came down on the camp like a terror, killing every blighted human they found. I revelled in it,” he sighed, “We took the other prisoners back to camp, embraced them as one of us. At least something good came out of it,” the elf grit his teeth bitterly, “I went out the next day. On patrol, again. Convinced the Keeper I was fine. I needed fresh air and space and time. We found some more humans then, wandering too close to camp. I didn’t make the same mistake with them. We killed them.”

Alistair shook his head in disbelief, “Maker, Theron. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” the elf replied sincerely, pausing to look the human in the eye, “This is what I was saying. I don’t blame humans for that. It’s not your fault. I just don’t take chances. Not when my clan is at stake. Not anymore.” 

Morrigan nodded respectfully, “I am glad you shared this with us, Theron.”

The elf inclined his head back. She seemed to understand. She knew that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. The witch saw more than most, noticed the little things. It was fascinating… and unnerving.

Alistair, however, didn’t seem to grasp the concept, “But still-”

“Listen, Alistair. I do what I will to protect my clan,” Theron said seriously, “You’re my clan, now. Both of you. It doesn’t matter what happened before.”

There was a pause, a sullen atmosphere hanging in the air. Alistair nodded, kept his mouth shut. The elf would have sighed in relief, but he was feeling too tense. He was glad he got that off his chest, at least. No secrets between their clan. Provided neither of the other two had any… 

Theron stopped his anxious walking and came to sit by the fire, wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged them tightly. They didn’t talk much more that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Leave a comment or kudos if you did! XD


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